


Floating

by Abradystrix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 09:23:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15603273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abradystrix/pseuds/Abradystrix
Summary: Hermione discovers the joys of swimming. Sort of.





	Floating

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by the wonderful @torestoreamends.
> 
> I’ve been pulled back into the world of Romione in a big way over the past few weeks. 
> 
> This fic came from a conversation with Tor, in which we spoke about Patronuses, otters and how they hold hands while they float. 
> 
> Ergo, fluff.

There’s a spot around two fields from the Burrow with the most magnificent pond. It’s actually big enough to stretch the definition of a pond, and Hermione strongly suspects that there’s been magic involved in its creation and maintenance. The uncanny clarity and subtle warmth of the water support this theory, as does the inexplicable absence of any passerby, Muggle or wizard.

She and Ron have decamped to its banks to see in another evening in late summer. The water is at its warmest in this last part of the afternoon, and after a long year of cramped tents, cold weather and concerted effort to keep themselves as small and invisible as possible, the chance to spread out in the sunshine is not to be missed.

Swimming didn’t really feature in Hogwarts life. Nobody was that keen on doing much more than paddling in the Great Lake and, thankfully for Hermione, the wizarding concept of ‘physical education’ did not extend much beyond flying. She still swam, occasionally, when she was home for the summer, but only enough to make sure her technique was still there, ‘just in case’.

She’d had lessons since she was very small, her parents ever conscious of the perils that could befall their only daughter (if only they’d known). Swimming had frustrated her because, simply put, she wasn’t very good at it. She could do it, but she couldn’t excel in the way she was familiar with in all other avenues of her life. She could crawl at a fair clip, and amble along in a sloppy breast stroke, but her frustration hampered her. She started to view the water as an antagonist. School lessons didn’t help much with this, as the other children delighted in watching Granger struggle with something.

So there’s a little bit of anxiety in her stomach as they make their way to the pond. It’s not like they’ve not been before – it’s just that without the usual splashing furore of a large group, and the excuse of hiding behind a book, she’s irrationally nervous about showing Ron this weakness on her part. She’s saved the world, she’s destroyed Horcruxes, she’s kissed the person she loves in the heat of battle, but at the sight of the gently lapping water, Hermione grits her teeth, feeling like an eight year old again. 

Ron has no such qualms and within seconds has thrown himself straight into the water with a yelp of delight. Hermione is so worked up now that she can’t even take time to appreciate the unique and incredibly alluring sight of a shirtless Ron in his trunks (ridiculously baggy, having once been Charlie’s). She reluctantly sheds her summer dress and steps to the edge of the water. She bites her lip as she sticks a foot in. Slowly she submerges herself, until the water is just past her chest. Ron paddles over to her, ears red and a huge grin on his face. He places his hands on her shoulders and kisses her briefly, before looking at her with an eyebrow quirked.

‘Hermione, can you swim?’ he asks gently. There’s no reproach in his voice, or judgement, just curiosity. Despite this she bristles.

‘Of course I can bloody swim,’ she says and removes herself from his arms, determinedly dipping into a precise, yet jerky breast stroke. She rounds on Ron as she hears him chuckling.

‘WHAT?’ she shouts in response, turning to glare at him.

‘Nothing… it’s just… I er…’ he coughs, catching the fury in her eye. He takes a minute to collect himself. ‘I’ve never seen anyone swim angrily before.’

She furrows her brow and crosses her arms over her chest. The water is still pretty shallow, and she watches as Ron floats over to her in a leisurely fashion, clearly at ease. He stops just short of her and has the good grace to look a bit ashamed.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,’ he says, pushing his wet hair out of his face. He needs a haircut, she thinks to herself. She relaxes her arms and casts her gaze determinedly downwards.

‘I don’t like it much,’ she confesses, refusing to look at him. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s sure that she looks as uncomfortable as Ron has ever seen her. She’s feeling very vulnerable in this moment, and is painfully aware of her awkwardness in the old green swimsuit she’s borrowed from Ginny.

Wonderfully, Ron doesn’t laugh. He moves to stand beside her and places his arms firmly around her shoulders. He tips her head up to look at him, and Hermione can barely bring herself to look into those bright blue eyes for fear of what she might see there.

‘I didn’t either,’ he says. ‘Fred threw me in the pond once when I was about 3, and I got tangled in some weeds and freaked out. Charlie had to come in and pull me out. Fred was mortified, it was almost worse than Spider-Ted.’ He frowns at this memory, a faraway look in his eyes.

Hermione pulls back, surprised. She suddenly feels an enormous swell of affection, both for the tiny Ron of the past and the lanky Ron of the present. She forgets her own discomfort and, remembering that this is the person who has fought trolls, werewolves and Death Eaters for her, opens up.

‘I’m just not very good at it,’ she mumbles. ‘I wasn’t very good at school and I don’t like…’

‘Not being perfect?’ he asks, smiling down at her.

‘Well… yes.’ she admits, meekly.

‘I think you’re perfect,’ he says, rubbing a thumb on her cheek. She smiles.

‘I know you do. But I’m really not much of a swimmer. I’m actually… actually, I’m a little afraid of water.’

‘I can sympathise with that,’ he says solemnly. She has to give him credit – he’s not laughed nearly as much as she feared, in fact, not at all since he realised she was upset. Could it be that they’re finally getting a handle on this transition to ‘more than’? Or are they just growing up?

‘What… er… what helped you?’ she asks in a small voice, trying not to get distracted by the way his hand has travelled to her shoulder and the flex in his arm as he rubs it.

Suddenly he’s gone and she looks down to see the altogether ridiculous sight of Ron, spread-eagled flat on his back, floating like a pale, ginger board in the pond. 

‘This!’ He says happily, spreading his arms out.

‘I… I don’t get it.’ says Hermione, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘Lying down?’

‘No! Floating!’ He stands up and shakes the water out of his hair in a manner reminiscent of a friendly dog.

‘Oh I can’t do that,’ she says quickly. ‘I’d sink.’

‘No you wouldn’t,’ he replies ’that’s impossible.’

‘Ron, I can categorically assure you that I would sink and it would be a very humiliating way to go, given the year we’ve just had.’ 

He’s standing beside her again, that infuriating smile on his face and he kisses her briefly on the top of the head.

‘After the ‘Pond Incident’ Charlie took it upon himself to help me get my confidence back,’ he explains, gesturing to the water around them. ‘He took me out here every day that summer and helped me be less scared. And he did it by showing me how to float. The water never lets you drop, see? Not if you’re flat enough. It’s just like you’re a piece of wood or a leaf.’

Hermione looks dubious.

‘Come on Hermione! You’re telling me you can release a dragon from Gringotts, but you don’t believe that you can float?’

She considers this briefly, and nods wryly.

‘You’re mental. Come here,’ he says, gently pulling her arm. ‘Let me help you.’

And despite herself, she does. With a gasp, she finds herself picked up in Ron’s arms, and he kneels down into the water, keeping one arm strong behind the small of her back. She is quite sure the physical demonstration is above and beyond the verbal explanation one might usually require, but the thumping in her chest tells her to be quiet and just enjoy this moment.

Looking at him, keenly aware that he is staring at her with wide eyes and a look of poorly-disguised desire on his face, she coughs gently and asks ‘er… what now?’

‘Uh.. Oh right, ok. So now we float! You just make yourself really flat – let the water lift you up, remember and stay straight if you can – and you’ll float.’

‘Just like that?’ she asks, her voice high-pitched and a little squeakier than she’d like.

‘Just like that,’ he assures her, and she braces herself into a very straight position indeed.

‘Er… maybe less… less like a dead Bowtruckle?’ he suggests, tentatively. Trying not to let frustration get the better of her, Hermione wills herself to relax and lies back. To her astonishment, she finds the sensation of the gently lapping water at her back does buoy her up. Ron grins down at her, slowly removing his arm. She panics at his withdrawal, and as she begins to contract her body, she feels herself sink. She stares wildly up at Ron who smiles encouragingly at her.

‘Relax, you’re doing great.’

She forces herself back into the flat, broad position, imagining herself for an absurd minute as an ungainly lily pad. She closes her eyes and breathes. 

‘Good isn’t it?’ says Ron, watching her closely.

She hesitates for a moment, focussing on the sensation of the water ebbing underneath her. 

‘Yeah… it is actually,’ she responds, peering up at him through her eyelashes. He places himself gently down beside her and before she knows it, he’s floating along beside her, and grabs her hand. She gives it a squeeze and grins in earnest, feeling very free all of a sudden.

They lie like that for a long time, hands entwined, looking up at the blue sky, just floating.


End file.
